Kate Farrell
RIVER
My ideas began to seem like trees
In
a cold April, always with a lilac
Haze around the branches' tips, and
Waiting I thought I would disappear
Like the color of the sky from knowing
Too much. Do you remember how crossing
The bridge in your old winter coat
Summer used to end and you thought
You were changing fast as leaf colors-
2
As we wait out the rain beneath this
Private dock, I tell you that I was
Very young then, in the back yard,
Overrun with honeysuckle and ivy.
What was it I wanted? I think a
Collection to hide and come back for.
Or the sun in a rowboat, passing a house
With a sign on it, RIVER, I used to think
I could live there forever. Is this
Like my life or is my life like this?
And too much is being told again to
Separate being with you from the change.
I wanted to explain: It's an element
As time is, when it's in the style of
A city you walk through, not going or
Coming back to anywhere you know.
Reading what you wrote, so much the
Very middle of a season, as if
